Storybook Hero
by DestinedforDestiel
Summary: It's been a year after the Thing at St.Bart's , and John thinks he's got it all under control . He's right , until a visit from an old friend turns his world on its side.
1. An Old Friend

He sat up with a start . Heart pounding and drenched in sweat , John lay back down. His pillow was soaked with tears. He had learned that even in sleep , grief doesn't leave you alone. Grief is like a heavy stone chained to your leg , and no matter how fast you run or how still you stay , the weight doesn't go away. It had been more than a year since It had happened , but every little detail was fresh in his mind.  
The phone call...  
The yell...  
And the fall. He always woke up at the fall , startled back to reality by the crunch of breaking bones . Sherlock's bones. Sherlock Holmes, the world's most brilliant man , and John's best friend . Dead. John kicked back the covers and reached for the cane he had taken up to using again . Attempting sleep after such nightmares was futile. He would know , considering he had had one for every day of the past year. He stood up and winced as pain shot up his leg . He was almost used to it now, the way one's ear might get used to an annoying sound after hearing it on repeat for a long time. Moving quietly so as not to wake , he walked into the kitchen. The clock read 6:25 AM. John sighed loudly and reached for a glass. He was due at the clinic in precisely 35 minutes and he was dreading it already. After It had happened , John had gone into complete shut down for a solid week . He had instructed to turn away all his visitors - not that they were numerous - and had refused to eat and drink anything . Exactly a week later , John had emerged from his room , bleary eyed , shaky , but with a purpose. It had taken some digging, but he had found Sarah's number and called her immediately. Calling an ex-girlfriend to ask for a job had been surprisingly easy for him , not the least bit awkward. Under normal circumstances, John would have laughed at the idea.  
But then again , these were not normal circumstances.  
As soon as Sarah had heard John's request , she had said yes. No questions , no condolences. In the short time they had been together , this was what John had grown to love about her . Her ability to read someone's emotions and respond accordingly.  
She knew that with john , silence was best when dealing with pain.  
He poured himself some water and returned to his room . He looked around the room , not really seeing anything . He dressed quickly , paying little attention to what he was wearing , and limped down the stairs.

The morning was unusually chilly and John could see his breath in the air. He shivered as he walked , wishing he had taken a cab instead of walking. The growing pain in his leg didn't help much either. 20 minutes later , John stepped through the doors of the clinic and made his way to his office. He noticed Sarah in her office , and she looked up as he passed by . She smiled kindly at him and said nothing. He smiled back and continued walking. This was the way things had been between them since John had started working with her again . The most they ever exchanged was common pleasantries that two strangers might say to each other . John knew it was wrong , and that he should make an effort to speak to her , or at least thank her , but he couldn't do it. Since It took place , John had found it very difficult to care about things as trivial as conversing with others.  
The best he could do was to not curl up in a ball and sob for the rest of his days.  
He reached his office and went inside , shutting the door behind him. He hung up his coat and sat down at his desk . He had five minutes before the clinic doors opened and the patients with all sorts of problems poured in . John tried to compose himself and put on his professional face . It was his duty to help these people out, not to break down thinking about the past. It was growing harder for him to act normal , and he knew that sooner or later , he would have to face his demons . Despite knowing this , John was determined to keep up his act as long as he could. Not only for his patients , but for his own sanity as well. Taking a deep breath , John pressed the buzzer at his desk , notifying the nurses that he was ready to see a patient. It went on like that all day , as it had every other day before. Ring buzzer, see patient , give medecine , say goodbye. It was a well known routine to John now. The day passed quickly , and to John's dismay , it was time to go home. He always despised going back to the flat. The silence gave him time to think about things he would much rather bury forever. Today was going to be worse than usual because of 's absence. She had left around noon to visit her sister , and wouldn't be back for another week. John shuddered as he wondered about how he was going to make it through the week . He got up and grabbed his cane , feeling drained as he walked towards the door.

John was grabbing his coat off the hook when the phone on his desk went off. He contemplated ignoring it , but in the end he began walking toward his desk , reaching for the phone. The number on the screen was familiar , but it wasn't one he had dialed in the past year. " John , it's Greg. Can we speak in person ? Preferably now ? " Lestrade had made many attempts to contact John since It happened , but John had always had one excuse or another. The truth was , John couldn't handle the memories that came with seeing him . But John knew he couldn't avoid him forever , so he said yes and told him he'd meet him at the station. He slowly made his way out of the building, saying goodbye to Sarah and the receptionists in the process. After 20 minutes, he was successful in hailing a taxi, and he sat in the back , informing the driver of their destination and saying nothing more. Dread and guilt weighed him down , and the closer they got to the station, the worse he felt. They arrived shortly after, and John paid the cabbie and got out. He faced the building , and after sighing in defeat , he began walking towards it. The inside was exactly as he remembered , all gray and full of straight edges, there were people teeming about , and he saw a few familiar faces Officers and forensics assistants he had worked with in the past. Before It had happened. As he was making his way over to Lestrade's office, John saw something that had he not seen with his own eyes , he would have never believed.  
Through a half-open door, he could see Sally Donovan and Anderson , kissing with such passion John was afraid one of them would catch on fire.  
John shook his head and continued walking. He knew that if He was here , He would have something clever to say about his two most annoying enemies being together like this . As soon as John saw this , his throat constricted and his eyes began to burn .With the sheer force of will , John stopped himself. He was an army soldier who had seen people die . He had killed . He would not let a bunch of bloody strangers see him cry. He reached Lestrade's office and knocked. He heard a " Come in" and entered the room . Lestrade was sitting at his desk , immersed in some papers . He looked up , and upon seeing John , a look of pure surprise passed over his face . John didn't think it was possible , but after seeing Lestrade's expression , his guilt deepened. " Greg, " he said in a hushed voice, " It's been a while." Lestrade gave him a smile and said nothing . that smile , however , spoke a thousand words . It was a smile full of loss and grief and forgiveness. In that moment , John realized he hadn't been the only one touched by His absence.

" So , " Lestrade said after a few minutes of silence, " How have you been John ? Don't sugarcoat it , tell me the truth. I know what he meant to you." John was a bit surprised by his directness. Others had been flustered and stumbled through conversations when the talk had turned to Him. But then again , Lestrade was not one for falseties and faking emotions. " Alright , " John replied , " Coping as best as i can . I've a job now , keeps me busy. The people there are wonderful . Just the other day I had a poor man come in and ask for a … " John knew he was rambling nonsense , but that was the only way he could get around the lump in his throat . Coming here was a mistake. He'd thought he could handle being here without Him , but clearly he had been mistaken. Every little thing from the desk to the chair to the windows reminded John of Him. He finally finished talking and silence took over once more. " Look , John , I know this is a tough time for you , and god knows what I would do if someone asked me this at such a time , but we need your help. We've had more cold cases in the past year then we have had in the past DECADE ! Without him , our department is going to shit. I lost the world's most brilliant mind , and Anderson is his replacement. Out of all of us . you knew him best. You knew the way he thought and - " John held up a hand and didn't let him finish. " Hold on a second , " he said shakily , " Are you really suggesting what I think you're suggesting ? You want ME to replace HIM ? Me , an ex - army doctor turned family physician , replace one of the greatest minds of all time ? "  
" Now look - " Lestrade managed to say before John cut him off again. " I didn't realize he was so disposable to you . One dies , and you just replace him with another. That's how it is around here , isn't it ? "  
" No , god no . Look john, You're taking this the wrong way . God knows no one can ever replace him , but try to step in my shoes for a second . People are getting scared , they want answers, and only you can give them that . Please , at least consider it. "  
" Absolutely not. Not now , not ever ," John said in a voice that was much steadier than he felt. He stood up and grabbed his cane , turning towards the door. " John , Please ! Anything you want , we'll do it. Anything , just please , help us. "  
"Can you bring Him back ?" Lestrade's mouth hung open , his words silenced by the request. " Well , can you? I didn't think so . Until you can bring him back , there's nothing in this world you could do or give me that would make me oblige with that request." With that , John walked out the door , slamming it so hard that the people in the nearest desks looked up in shock . upon seeing John's expression, however, they quickly went back to work . John didn't even care that these people thought he was insane, he was fuming. As fast as he could , he made his way down. He quickly found a cab , and was on his way back to baker street in minutes.

Exactly twelve minutes later , John's cab arrived in front of 221 B , Baker street . He paid the cabby and got out , his mind elsewhere entirely. His mind was so preoccupied that he didn't notice that the door was open , despite 's absence . Nor did he notice the footprints on the stairs , or the long coat hanging on the coat rack as he climbed the stairs. He reached the top of the stairs and entered the kitchen , going to the sink for a cup of water. However , before he could do anything , something caught his eye. There , sitting on the stove top , was the tea kettle. John distinctly remembered his morning , and he did not recall making himself any tea. It could have been , John thought , but he quickly dismissed the idea. had made an effort in the past year to not enter the upstairs flat unless absolutely necessary . Besides, Mrs. Hudson had left at noon , which meant she had been gone for over six hours. If she had set the kettle on the stove , the water should have been stone cold by this point , but John could still see steam rising off of it . He turned slowly and faced the sitting room , his arm instinctively reaching inside his jacket for the gun he no longer carried . He'd stopped carrying it around ages ago , and he regretted that now intensely at the moment. He was certain someone had broken into the building , but he wasn't sure if the person was still present. From his position in the kitchen , he could only see half of the room before him , and it seemed empty. But that didn't mean anything. The intruder could be in any other room in the house . As silently as he could , John grabbed a kitchen knife and walked towards the sitting room . He finally got a full view of the room , and his earlier suspicion of it being empty were confirmed . He thought about his next step of action . If there really was an intruder in the flat , which john was absolutely sure about , He or she must be in one of the bedrooms. John didn't want to follow the intruder into the bedrooms, because that meant unavoidable violence. But he didn't want to do nothing either , so instead he called the intruder to him. " I know you're in here. I'm armed and I've already notified the police , they're on their way . Why don't you just come out and show yourself ?" The bit about the police was a lie , but John couldn't have whoever was there knowing it was them against a crippled ex-soldier. Almost immediately after calling out , John heard footsteps coming from His bedroom's direction. John turned to face the hall , the knife clutched tightly in his hand. The footsteps were getting closer and finally , the intruder came into view. His curly hair was plastered to his forehead , and the shadows under his eyes looked permanent. His face was extremely thin , his skin drawn back so far John thought his cheekbones would cut through . The man smiled and said nothing , simply staring. " YOU !" John exclaimed, and then everything went black.


	2. Surpises

Black , that was all John saw . He couldn't remember where he was or how long he had been lying on the ground , or why . Judging by the pain in his back and shoulders , it must have been a few hours at least . Slowly , John's vision was returning . He raised his head and saw the figure sitting on the chair . That man , something was so familiar about him… John was still thinking this when he slipped back into unconsciousness . He dreamt of Him and of the case they'd worked together in Baskerville . The scenes kept shifting , never remaining constant for more than a few seconds . He saw Henry being dragged by a massive canine with blood red eyes and foam frothing from its mouth . He saw Lestrade next , wearing a devilish grin and sitting atop a throne of cages each holding a struggling child . He saw Him next , his eyes cold and sinister . John watched as His back hunched and claws grew from his hand . In a second , a beast stood where He had stood , roaring and drooling a thick black liquid. That was the last image he saw before falling into oblivion once again .

John woke to a slight whacking sound and wondered if Sherlock had gotten his hands on that old riding crop he never went out without. John smiled at the thought, but seconds later his forehead crinkled with confusion; something about that image didn't seem right...Riding crop...noise...Sher-Oh! John remembered suddenly, that the noise was not Sherlock, no not Sherlock at all. What was it then, exactly? Even in his foggy state of mind, John knew something was going on. He realized he was in his room, on his bed. The momentary comfort and familiarity helped clear John's senses, but he still couldn't recall how he had gotten there. And then he sat up in his bed, blood rushing to his head. There was an intruder in his house, and John had fallen asleep ! He cursed and shook his head, attempting in vain to clear his vision. He looked about for his cane and saw it nowhere, cursing some more. In his mind, a thunderstorm was going on. No more confusion. John remembered exactly what had happened, and exactly who he'd thought he'd seen just before going unconscious. He cursed his mind for being so cruel, for sneaking in a sting even in the peaceful realm of unconsciousness. He rose quickly and limped to the sitting room, needing to make sure, make absolutely sure, that what he'd seen was a was steps away when he slowed down. He didn't know what he expected, a part of him was convinced he was going insane and seeing things, driven by grief and desperation. But another part of him was ecstatic, unable to contain the hopefulness that gripped his continued limping towards the room, at an incredibly slow rate, wanting to know but not wanting to be disappointed. He finally reached the end of the hall and stepped out, surveying the empty room. His chest and throat tightened, disappointment flooding over him like the foamy waves in the sea. He was about to make his way to the chair and sit down when someone emerged from the kitchen. " Ah, finally awake now, are we? That took a bit longer than expected. Really John, you would think a grown man wouldn't be so weak." His voice sounded exactly as it had, cold and superior, but with a little catch in it that John knew meant he was under stress or nervous. " No," John cried out loud, " You aren't real, I'm dreaming, you're not here!" He sighed dramatically and sat down, " Ah, finally believed the little note I left you? I'm real John, I'm as real as your horrendous choice in girlfriends, although I do have to say I'm a bit more stable than that lot. Now then, Tea? I had to put the water on again, what with you fainting this way and isn't here, she really does make marvelous tea, have I ever tol- ." He was interrupted by a loud clattering and stopped speaking, a frown quickly appearing on his face. John hand punched the mirror, and now blood was pouring steadily from his knuckles." Bloody hell John, what did you go and do that for?" He said almost angrily, starting to approach John. " No , stay away from me," John said loudly, "stay away, whatever you are." He gripped a piece of broken glass tightly, cutting his palm in the process. "You're not real," John said again. " This," he said holding up his bleeding hand, " this is real. Stay away!" The other man sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. " You don't think I'm real? fine. My name is Sherlock Holmes. My brother, the head of the British government, is Mycroft college friend introduced us, and we became flatmates that very week.I fed you a spiked coffee in Baskerville, which made you upset for some strange reason. You stopped using your cane after meeting me but are using it again which makes me think that there's stress in your life. The house is absolutely spotless. Avoiding attachment John? You're working with an Ex-girlfriend. If I didn't know any better I would think you're very desperate to cling to the 's no fresh food in the Fridge. How much time do you spend in the flat ? No more than 5 hours a day, I presume, enough to sleep and get dressed for a I go on?" John said nothing, letting silence take over the air. His thoughts whirled, the possibilities crossing themselves out as soon as they appeared. There were two things that remained. Either John had finally crossed the line into insanity and was dreaming all of this up, or his best friend , the same one that died jumping off of a hospital, was sitting in front of him .


End file.
